


In the Heat of the Moment

by loststardust



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Violence, tommy makin threats, what the shit do people even tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 02:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12807816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loststardust/pseuds/loststardust
Summary: An intruder at the house tries to steal Charlie away, and you're the only one around to stop him.





	In the Heat of the Moment

In the heat of the moment. That’s how you’d rationalise it. That’s what you’d tell your mother when you tried to explain it, what you’d offer forward when people praised you for it. It wasn’t bravery, or selfishness. It wasn’t even panic. It was instincts and nothing; your mind had been so blank, you had acted before pausing to consider anything else; you’d done it all in the heat of the moment. 

\---

It was a Thursday when it happened. You remembered that because Thursday’s were the only day you worked into the night, prepping the horses for the next day. Tommy let you take Friday’s off, to go home to your family, meaning all jobs had to be done before you left. He didn’t give you that before Grace had passed, things were different after he’d lost her. 

You’d been Tommy’s live-in stable-girl for years; you’d moved to the manor house with him, following after his pretty horses and guaranteed payslip. It was the perfect job. You loved the animals, the money, the security. 

That night was the first time you’d ever regretted working for him.

Weary, covered in muck and sweat, you left the final stall and fastened it shut behind you. All the horses were clean, bedded. Hay nets re-stuffed. Walkway washed down. You were free of duties and ready to go before twelve. All that was left, was to return your bucket and tools to the shed across the yard. 

It was there, in the dark of night, that you’d seen him. A man you didn’t recognise, approaching the house with his head ducked down between his shoulders. You’d stood and watched as he disappeared into the gardens around the back, before continuing on your way. After all, it wasn’t unusual for Tommy to have late night guests. 

You’d changed and locked up, yawning as you went on your way. Sleepy-eyed, you walked back across the yard, where it’d dawned on you that Tommy wasn’t home. John had invited the lot of them to his, for booze and cards. A lad’s night. The only people in the house were staff, like yourself, and Charlie. 

Your throat tightened. Though you never really knew the extent of Tommy’s troubles, you knew that a stranger, alone, with his only son and heir could never be anything but danger. 

Bile stung your throat as you picked up the pace, eyes set on where you’d seen the man last. You didn’t have any sort of plan. Tommy had armed men somewhere, but you didn’t know where, nor could you reach them in time. You were going in blind. Helpless. 

As you got to the back of the house, you saw a window had been prised open, and followed it into the room behind. Tracing the intruder’s steps. 

The house was still. Silent. As if it were holding its breath, waiting for the danger to pass. You crossed the library, and followed the trail of wet footprints into the hall. 

The stranger was there; frozen at the bottom of the stairs with a sleeping Charlie in his arms. 

In the split second that you’d locked eyes, your mind had dive-bombed into blankness. Every thought and rationality had dissipated into absolutely nothing and you’d found yourself running toward the man, shouting for hims to give the boy back. 

He’d pulled his gun fast enough that you’d missed it completely. The blast woke Charlie, sending him into a panic of tears and screams as your shoulder exploded with pain. It knocked you back a few feet, pausing you long enough for the man to turn on heel and run, taking the front door out into the midnight.

Gasping, more from shock than anything else, you’d staggered after him. Caught in the heat of the moment. Blind with instinct. 

As you passed the rack by the door, you pulled a cane free. It was no gun, but it was better than nothing, and you gripped it with both hands as you ran. Your speed surprised even you. He’d made it halfway down the drive, onto the green verge in the middle, when you’d caught him. 

Swinging the stick, you’d laid a firm blow into the back of his legs. He tumbled forward, landing awkwardly on top of the child before rolling onto his back, swearing at you. Charlie’s wailing had grown loud enough to wake the others, you hoped, and you found yourself talking to him. Ignoring the kidnapper as if he wasn’t there.

‘It’s okay, Charlie,’ you panted, your voice miles from comforting. ‘I’ve got you.’

You swung again, hitting the stranger’s shins while he attempted to scramble to his feet. Your advantage was surprise, and it was running out fast.

‘Let him go!’ you screamed, lifting your make-shift weapon again. As it came down, the man wrapped his free hand around it, using it to pull himself up. 

You staggered back with the weight of him, watching in horror as he dropped Charlie to the ground and turned his full attention upon you. He wrenched the stick from your grip and used it against you. The wood cracked as it slammed into your injured shoulder, sending another fire-wave of pain through your body. It shattered into pieces when he struck you again. You couldn’t even take the hit standing, you stumbled back from the grass, crumbling onto the gravel.

‘Charlie, to the house!’ you barked. You attempted to look for him, to see if he was okay, but the man’s foot came down hard on your stomach and you found yourself crying into the sky above. 

He kicked you enough times for you to lose count. Your body curled itself in desperation; attempted to minimise the damage of each blow. Hot blood coughed up from inside and dribbled down your cheek, leaking from your mouth. Tears poured from your eyes. You were past consciousness, lost in something like a nightmare, trapped in a fog of pain and fear. 

You hadn’t heard Charlie moving, you didn’t know if he’d gotten away, if help had been called.

For those minutes, all that existed was the ringing in your ears and the searing ache of your body. You were trapped, too far gone to beg for mercy, too afraid to fight back.

When a gunshot burst through the chaos, you were half convinced it had been fired into you. It was close enough, loud enough. You were so riddled with pain, that you were sure it could’ve entered your body without causing more. But there was no chance for you to find out; you’d already passed into blankness. 

Everything after that was missing.

 

\---

 

To say you awoke, would be a lie. 

You’d crawled back to life, peeling yourself from restless sleep to meet painful consciousness. Every inch of you complained. Your body ached and stung to the point where you could feel nothing else; if some part of you was unharmed, it had buried itself long ago, in the soreness of some other injury. 

Thankfully, your eyes were working. You could feel the skin was taught beneath them, across your cheekbones, but your lids were un-swollen. At least you could look around you, see something other than darkness. You were in a hospital room, in a bed, with a man stationed by your feet. 

He was a Blinder, you could tell from the cap, and you’d attempted to call out to him, but failed. The breath that scraped your throat was enough of a noise to gain his attention. 

He spun to face you. ‘Miss (y/l/n). You’re awake,’ he said.

You were too afraid to nod. ‘Water,’ you croaked. He obliged, and brought you a cup, holding it to your lips for you to drink. It was slow and undignified; more went down your front than into your mouth, but it was needed. Water had never tasted so close to the nectar of Gods.

‘I’ve got to get Tommy, Miss.’ He placed the cup back on the cabinet beside you. ‘He told me to get him when you were awake.’ He hesitated, as if waiting for you to demand he stayed, but of course you didn’t. You were barely thinking straight. 

The Blinder left and you felt yourself drift off, too exhausted to fight it.

 

\---

 

Tommy was sat next to you when you opened your eyes again. He’d pulled a chair up to your bed, and sat, folded at the waist with his arms on his knees. You couldn’t see his face, but you imagined it carried the purple rings of a sleepless night. 

You swallowed, attempting to wet your mouth before you spoke. ‘Is Charlie-’

He’d interrupted you as soon as you’d made a sound, his head snapping up to meet your eyes. ‘(Y/n),’ he breathed. 

‘Is Charlie okay?’ you said, wincing. Your chest was tight, and pinched with each movement, but you had to know. 

‘He’s fine, (y/n), he’s fine.’ You could see he was relieved, but he didn’t sound it. His stressed face was glued to yours, as if you would slip away again the second he blinked. ‘You saved him,’ he said.

It was all worth it, then. Every blow. You felt some ache lift with the knowledge that Charlie was alright. ‘Good.’ You nodded slightly, before asking, ‘How bad is it?’

Tommy sighed, listing off your injuries, ‘Broken ribs, an arm, internal bleeding and a blow to the head. Bullet wound in the shoulder, stitches in your-’

‘Only one?’

He paused. ‘One what?’

‘Bullet,’ you winced between breaths, ‘one bullet wound?’

‘Just the one, (y/n).’ He’d said your name again; he seemed unable to keep himself from saying it. You’d find out later it was because he had been so afraid of losing you, so sure that he’d never get to say it to you again, that it felt like gold on his tongue. 

‘You killed him?’ It was your next guess. If the bullet had’t been yours, it could only ever be your attacker’s. Tommy nodded once and you let yourself relax slightly. At least he was dead, you didn’t suffer that for him to walk free, painless. 

‘The doctor said you’ll be slow to recover.’

‘I believe him,’ you attempted a smile. Your father had always said it was best to laugh, than to cry. ‘I feel like shit.’

You’d hoped he’d smile with you, but instead his head dropped, chin almost to his chest. ‘That should have never happened to you, (y/n).’

‘I couldn’t let,’ your words stopped short. You’d attempted to sit up more, but the pain that shot through your body had ripped the words from your mouth, replacing them with a sharp gasp. ‘Fuck,’ you hissed. 

Tommy had bolted up, moving to the door to shout for the nurse. 

‘Tommy,’ you took a deep breath, ‘Tommy it’s fine.’ When you were still, it was bearable. And you could just about manage to stay still.

‘I need a fucking nurse in here!’ He was barking orders into the hall, his image intermittently blocked by the swinging double doors to your room. ‘She needs meds and she needs them now.’ A nurse had appeared his side, apologising as he scolded her, ‘I told you to keep her fucking painless.’

She hurried into the room, supplying you with some sort of opiate, which you were glad of, before disappearing again. You said nothing to Tommy as he entered, pacing the space at the end of your bed. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, stressed by your pain, or by the nurses ignorance; you weren’t sure what it was entirely. He was leaving you to watch while he twisted through his mind in silence. 

It only took a short while for your body to disappear. You sighed as the pain eased, sinking into the bed, feeling your eyelids grow heavy. ‘Thank you,’ you said, to the drugs more than to Tommy.

He turned in your peripheral, moving to lean on the rail at your feet. ‘They’ll pay for this,’ he said, his tone low and sure; his words a statement of fact. ‘Alright, (y/n). They’ll fucking pay because that’s how it goes. An eye for an eye.’

‘I wasn’t the target, Tommy.’

‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘But you’re the one in the hospital bed. So they’ll get a bullet to the head and an unmarked grave. Every last one of them.’

You said nothing. You didn’t fight him, you were happy to hear it. 

He hadn’t apologised for what had happened, and you hadn’t wanted him to. What you’d wanted, what you’d needed, was to hear a threat against whoever had sent the attacker that night. And a threat is what Tommy had given you.

‘I’ll be back in the morning, (y/n), he said. He waited to see you nod before he left, and you’d sunken into a drug-infused rest, knowing that he’d stick to his word.

He’d see you again tomorrow, and the fuckers would pay. An eye for an eye.

**Author's Note:**

> posting this here from my tumblr (blinder-secrets) because i'm real proud of it!!


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